Abandoned to the Darkness
by IcarusFalling23
Summary: After 3 long years in Azkaban, the ministry comes for him. They need their Boy-Who-Lived to kill Voldemort for them. But, after 3 years, Harry's not the same naive boy they locked up. They can fight their own battles now. Pairing is undecided
1. Chapter 1

Dumbledore sat before his pensieve, reliving memories of events long since passed. The death of a student during the TriWizard Tournament; discovering Sirius hiding in a cave in Hogsmead, much more alive than everyone thought; and most disturbing: the arrest and incarceration of Harry Potter. That had been many years ago; many terror filled years ago. Voldemort had established control over the Muggle World as well, and the Ministry was finally out of ideas. They only had one hope, no, one _weapon_ left; Harry Potter; the Boy-Who-Lived.

* * *

Harry lay against the wall in his cell. The water dripped down onto him as rain pounded the massive island prison. Azkaban was illuminated by lighting as the rain tried to erode the evil right off the island. Dementors swooped by outside, leaving depression in their wake. Harry thumped his head against the wall happily. _Harry. Haaaaarry,_ he thought, stretching out his name to fill the hours. _My name…is Harry! Harry Po- pot…What was that last bit, again?_ The boy scratched at his shaved scalp, and went back to thumping his head against the wall lightly. _My name is Harry, and all of the people here are my friends! Friends, friends, friends!_ The small boy looked out his window at the ocean crashing against the rocks. The rocks seemed very far off today. It also seemed very cold. He'd been here for a while...maybe it was Christmas? Christmas was in winter, right? And winter in Europe meant snow... Harry pulled himself to his feet unsteadily, and held onto the bars set into the wall. At least the rain wasn't coming in the opening this time… and at least it wasn't snow. It could always be worse, right?

Harry looked down at the dark water. _That doesn't look too far…_ The emaciated boy poked at his straining ribs, and looked at the bars again. _Let's go for a swim, Harry…_ He leaned against the bars and pressed his right arm through first. He turned his head to squeeze through and pushed with his shoulders, laughing as his old glassed caught against the bars. He took them off delicately and threw them into the corner of his cell. His laughter rang out over the island prison as the lenses in his glasses shattered. Harry stepped forward and his thin shoulders fit through the bars easily. _Do you drown if you're thirsty? I'm so thirsty..._ Harry shrugged his bony body and looked over the edge of his window. Far below him, the ocean crashed against the rocks; reaching up to capture the small boy.

He let go of the bars and fell to the water.

* * *

Sirius Black paced the long hallways of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. His mother's portrait was tightly covered, with only a dull mutter of her objections. Of course, knowing his mother, Harry would be viewed in the highest regard. After returning from the graveyard, screaming and covered in blood, Harry had become the perfect little pureblood. He never argued anymore, and he barely spoke to anyone. He just sat there quietly, handed in his homework, and went to his dorm. Even his old rival, Malfoy, couldn't pull him away from the horrific memories of that night in the graveyard. No one knew what had really happened after the portkey pulled him there, and seeing the way Harry was now…no one really wanted to… Harry was silent and withdrawn. A month after the TriWizard Tournament, the Ministry of Magic showed up in the Great Hall. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, strode toward Dumbledore with a grin on his face. The old wizard leaned forward as Fudge whispered something in his ear. His blue eyes met Harry's, and Harry was led out of the Hall. Three days later, Harry was sentenced and carted off to Azkaban.

Sirius hadn't seen him in three years.

* * *

Harry fell toward the sea and stretched his arms out happily. The bitter wind tugged at his thin clothing, passing through it to chill the pale skin beneath. Of course he was pale: it wasn't as though they allowed murderers outside…

His arms stretched out before he fell, making him as wide as possible. He didn't want to escape Azkaban.

The small boy laughed maniacally and saw something out of the corner of his eye. A black shape was coming towards him. Harry felt the chill seep into his bones. _Dementor._ His laughter cut off abruptly, and Harry felt darkness take its place. The dementor flew toward him and snatched him into the dank folds of its cloak. It smelled of mold and long-dead things. Harry sighed as the darkness of the dementor's cloak swirled around him, placing him back inside his cell. He slumped back down to the stone floor as the dementor slid through the wall and back outside.

_That's what, eight now? They get me every time…_

_

* * *

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**Hello kiddies! This lovely little idea wouldn't leave me alone, so it went from 2 chapters of drabble, into a story that I might occasionally remember to write. Leave me reviews and nice things: if you leave me mean things, then...don't know what I'll do, but you probably won't enjoy it...*backs away* Happy reading then!**_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore sat as his desk quietly. The school was silent around him: it had been shut down barely a year after Harry's incarceration. By now, children were either hidden away or right out on the frontline, giving the other children a reason to hide. Most of Slytherin House had stayed loyal, but there were a few here and there that turned. Voldemort surprisingly had the most support from schools like Durmstrang in Austria, and Alcatraz Academy in the United States. Dumbledore smiled to himself: Hogwarts remained loyal. But-- he bit his cheek at the thought--they hadn't always remained loyal: there was still Harry Potter to think of. Poor boy: the ministries would be coming for him when they realized that they had to release Harry Potter from Azkaban. It wouldn't be long now at all.

No, it wouldn't be long until they realized that their only hope was the little boy they had thrown to the darkness. And what could be worse? Everyone in the courtroom knew of Harry's deep fear of dementors: how he relived his parent's death every time. But, murderers couldn't be allowed to return to Hogwarts, couldn't go to another prison without those foul creatures. No: the Ministry sentenced a fourteen year old to the cruelest torture; his own memories.

The memories would be more inventive than anything the Ministry could think up.

* * *

Harry was in his cell again. He was always in his cell. And his cell was always in him. The cool dampness permeating off the cold stone sunk into his bones. His body shivered as the rain and foam from the waves blew into his cell. _Why does it always rain on me? _Harry scratched absentmindedly at a scab on his wrist. The broken dish in the corner gave him both momentary comfort and more scabs to pick. Somehow, when his skin felt like it was crawling, the sharp edge of the bowl seemed to help. He didn't know why, but it made the itch go away.

Harry smiled out his window at the blurry shapes gliding by. Without his glasses on, everything seemed blurry. Oh well, at least the dementors would always be there for him. As his thoughts turned to the world that had betrayed him, Harry growled deeply in his throat. _They just tossed him aside. No truth serum, and barely even a trial. _Sirius had shook his head at the boy, convinced that his godson had finally gone dark._ Maybe if he had been there for him, this wouldn't have happened?_ Sirius always felt guilty about that…_And why shouldn't he! His only godson had been thrown to the wolves! Well…maybe not the wolves: Remus had always been nice to him._ _Harry had been thrown to the cloaks_…Harry giggled at the thought…_and now they had nothing to show for it. A damp little Boy-Who-Lived, curled up in the deep darkness of his cell, hidden away on an island for a crime he didn't commit. _Wait_…he didn't really kill Cedric, did he? _Harry couldn't remember all the facts that well anymore. All he knew was that, if they came for him, they would have _much_ more than they bargained for. This little lion had some bite to it now. Harry shook his head again. Why was he thinking of lions? Lions lived in Africa and in zoos, not in Scotland on island prisons. Harry looked out the bars again at the floating dementors. _It must be nice to fly, to be able to escape when you want to. But then again, aren't the dementors as trapped as I am? Where else could they go if there was no Azkaban? _He decided to stop making the dementors save him, and decided to study them instead. He crawled to the corner of his cell and retrieved his cracked glasses. The world outside slid into focus, and the small boy sat at the bars and watched the dementors until it was too dark to see anymore.

Even when he couldn't see them anymore, Harry could feel them as they slid past. Curls of fear unraveled in his stomach, weighing him down with depression. The fear seemed to settle in him like a rock: it was heavy and had sharp edges that poked at him from the inside out. It felt like he'd swallowed broken glass. In the back of his mind, he heard screams, but he wasn't sure if they were his or his mother's. Whoever was screaming, they were very loud and disruptive. All he wanted to do was study the dementors; was that too much to ask?

* * *

The flames in the grate turned emerald as someone fire-called him. Inside the fireplace, the Chief of Aurors looked out at him.

"Albus, they've called for me. They're letting Harry out." The man whispered. Dumbledore looked down at the man in his fireplace and set down the cup of tea he'd been drinking.

"Come on through then, Sirius. It's time we faced this."

As they left the office, Albus' tealeaves slid down to the bottom of the cup. What had been a fortune of happiness and prosperity became a bleak reading of destiny and destruction. Only Fawkes saw the truth of it, and pearly tears slid down his beak at the thought of what was to come.

* * *

Dumbledore looked at the man kindly. The three years that Harry had been in Azkaban had not been kind to Sirius Black. His black hair was tangled and matted. A few day's growth was sprouting on his chin after Sirius had once again forgone shaving. Even his robes were black. The man looked pale and sickly, and startlingly, like the man he had made fun of while in Hogwarts. What had they called him then? Snivellus? Sirius looked even worse than Severus now; at least Severus still cared.

Dumbledore unsheathed his wand and tapped one of his lemon drops. A mumbled 'Portus', and he and Sirius where sent spinning off to Azkaban. As they landed, Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy landed next to them. They had taken a portkey at the Ministry, and were there to examine Harry. After years of enmity, the two men had a grudging respect for each other. They followed Dumbledore to one of the small boats at the edge of the lake and Arthur and Lucius started rowing them toward the prison. A dementor at the gates looked down at them. Dumbledore tried to look away, but he was drawn back to the darkness inside the hood of the cloak. He shivered, and turned away to look out at the shore. Lucius sighed and looked at the Creature.

"We're here to retrieve the Potter boy, he's in cell number 976859. His ID number is P976859-14." The Dementor nodded and turned to lead them into the prison. Sirius grew pale as they passed through the heavy wrought-iron gates. Memories of his own days in Azkaban flitted at the edge of his mind, and from far off, he could hear someone laughing. Who in Hades could laugh in Azkaban? _Well_, Sirius conceded, _who but his cousin Bella?_ The four men followed the creature deep into the prison and closer to the laughing. The walls dripped and they splashed through puddles as the laughter got even louder.

Lucius was the first to spot him. Harry was sitting in the middle of his cell, laughing as dementors swooped in and out around him. One of the dementors reached out with a scaly hand and caressed the boy's cheek before leaving the cell again. Another dementor slid in through the bars at the back of the cell and covered him with his cloak as Harry started to shiver again. The small boy smiled up at the dark hood above him and nodded. The dementor nodded back at Harry and sank into the floor. By now, there were only about ten dementors left. Dumbledore spelled the door open quickly and ran inside. Harry faced him and Albus gasped at the look in his eyes. His bright green eyes had dulled to a milky gray and tears swam in them freely. In the four years that he had known him before his imprisonment, Albus had never seen Harry cry, and his heart ached at the thought of what could make the small boy this emotional. Arthur screamed hoarsely, and Harry glared at him unseeingly. He quirked his head to the side and looked at the Dementor behind him. Dumbledore stepped forward again and the dementors hissed at him. They surrounded Harry and flew tightly together, keeping Dumbledore away from him. Harry started laughing again and Dumbledore aimed his wand at the dementors.

"Get away from him! He is free to go: the ministry needs him." The dementors stopped and turned as one to stare at him. One of them groaned briefly and spoke quietly.

"Your ministry might need him, but he has no need for your ministry. He belongs to us now." The dementor said in a groan. Its voice sounded like fog creeping over a graveyard, or as if they were listening from underwater. Lucius looked back and forth between Dumbledore and the dementor. The old man shook his head angrily and his eyes shone with fury.

"No! He is needed!" he shouted. The dementor slid off its hood and looked at him with dark gray eyes. As the men looked between him and Harry, they were startled at how much they resembled each other. Its skin was tight to the skull, and every bone was outlined. High cheekbones and a thin nose made the creature appear regal. Sharp teeth reflected the light from Arthur's wand as the dementor grinned. Its light gray skin seemed to turn darker as the shadows in the room leapt and danced around them. Harry's shadow on the floor split in two and one of them ran to stand with the dementors. The other shadow curled into a ball and started rocking in place. Harry sat still and looked up at the unhooded dementor. The dementor nodded to him and its smile grew wider.

"You say that he is needed, but where were you when he was the one in need? Your boy savior is no more. He is one of us now." The dementor pulled its hood back on, and the remaining dementors flew faster than before around him. Harry stood up and smiled at them. Harry opened his mouth and whispered quietly.

"Goodbye. Let this be remembered as the day your savior forsake you as you forsook him. You know…I think I was innocent…I can't quite remember everything anymore. But know this: I will not fight for you. You have none to blame but yourselves."

The four men looked on in horror as the dementor that had spoken to them glided to Harry. Between the flying dementors, they caught glimpses of what was happening. The boy tipped his head back and the dementor lowered its hood to cover both of their faces. Sirius screamed as Harry's body arched painfully, then grew slack and slid to the floor. The dementors stopped spinning around them and sank into the floor. The only dementor left in the cell nodded to them and glided to the back of the cell and through the bars.

"You may take him now, but be warned that he will not thank you for it." Sirius ran forward and slid his arms under his godson. The boy was light enough that he carried him out of the cell easily as Arthur led the way back to the boat. Lucius looked on grimly as they loaded him into the boat and rowed back to shore quickly. Albus seized Harry by the front of his tattered robes and they spun back to Hogwarts with a whispered portkey.


	3. note

First and foremost, I am incredibly sorry for the long periods between chapters. **Stories will continue to be updated in the coming future.**

I was diagnosed with a serious medical problem a few months ago, and the medication I take now makes it very hard for me to attach myself to my stories the way that I used to. I had to have sensors hooked up to my head by a neurologist and they discovered that I had been having seizures almost constantly while I was sleeping, and nearly every 10 minutes when I was awake. No one had ever detected it before because I never displayed any outside symptoms beside headaches.

Now the medication that I take essentially makes the electrical connections in my brain run differently, and I'm not used to it yet, even after almost 4 months.

My brain is used to functioning in the most complicated way possible, due to massive amounts of scar tissue. Signals would be sent, get half way to a destination, then be stopped by scar tissue, and have to find an alternate route. The best way to explain my condition is to compare it to someone watching tv, and clicking through the channels rapidly, and not focusing on the picture. I can see what's changing, but I couldn't tell you what I was watching: if it was a sports program, a cooking show, etc. You could ask me what I was doing, and I wouldn't be able to tell you. I would have to look down, and reinterpret what I was doing. Now, with the medication, it forces my brain to slow down and focus on the picture. I'm still not watching the program, but my brain can now interpret what I'm seeing. The only way for me to solve the problem of my seizures is to undergo extensive brain surgery, which is not recommended for my age (18), the location of my scar tissue, or the amount of scar tissue I have (a lot).

I will be on medication for the rest of my life, because I can't have the surgery without a high level of risk. I thank you for your understanding. **All of my stories will continue to be updated when I have time.**


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